


McGenji Week, Day 2: Proving Them Wrong

by WhiskeysWorks



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Day 2, Gen, M/M, descriptions of gore at the end, for McGenji Week!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 22:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskeysWorks/pseuds/WhiskeysWorks
Summary: Some take more than others, and some need some help getting there, but all legends have to start somewhere...





	McGenji Week, Day 2: Proving Them Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> This is the second day of McGenji Week hosted by McGenjiEvents! The prompt was "proving them wrong".

Genji growled in frustration, hitting the training dummy with his shinani sloppily. He had been working for hours each day to get better, and yet the elders still refused to let him train with Sensei like Hanzo did. 

He was too young to understand what he was doing, to make the decisions he had, they said. That it was not a girl’s place to be training for battle, simply to further disrespect him. Genji thought they were too old to be making his decisions for him, much less to still be alive, but he wasn’t telling them that. 

The problem was, he still was not out yet, too afraid to go against the tradition he had been raised to follow and honour. So he trained to get his frustrations and fears out, Hanzo teaching him what he had learned from Sensei. Encouraging. Genji was grateful for it, gave him hope for when he eventually told the rest of his family.

“Widen your stance and do that again, but try this time,” Hanzo called, Genji rolling his eyes with a loud sigh.

“Do it.”

“Fine!” Genji groused, focusing on the dummy again. Calming his breath, steadying his footing. 

He hit it precisely in three places, circling around it, placing his feet meticulously. Practiced, severely. Hit it again, the satisfying thwack of bamboo and wood against straw centering him. It felt good.

“There, perfect. You’re good at this, so keep training hard and they will notice,” Hanzo told him. Genji wiped the sweat from his forehead, shoulders dropping.

“No, they won’t! They refuse to notice, even when they know I’m just as capable as you are!" Genji exclaimed, setting his shinani down and sitting heavily, leaning on his arms. 

Hanzo came over and sat next to him, tucking his legs underneath himself.

“Prove them wrong, then.”

Genji frowned, glancing up at his brother.

“What?”

“Prove them wrong. Show them you can do this. Make them see that you are Genji Shimada, and that Genji Shimada does not take no for an answer.”

Genji’s cheeks warmed as he smiled, then curled his hands into fists as he stood, face set in determination.

“Yeah! I won’t take no for an answer, you old fucks!”

“Maybe don’t call them that...”

“I’ll call them that until they start calling me Genji!”

“Well...Fair enough, I suppose,” Hanzo shrugged. He ruffled Genji’s hair as he went back to his own training area. 

Genji picked up his shinani again, a new fire in his eyes as he started moving around the dummy once more.

-

“What do you think?”

Jesse scratched the back of his neck with a slight grimace, Ashe leaning back in her chair, hand hitting the table with narrowed eyes. B.O.B stood quietly in the corner, ever watchful.

“I dunno, Ashe...I mean, it’s just the three of us right now. Who’s gonna follow a few kids promisin’...God knows what we’ll have to promise ‘em to get ‘em on board,” Jesse muttered.

“We have a thing goin’ here, Jesse. You and me, against the world. I’ve had your back through Hell and then some, so what’s happenin’ now that I need you to have mine, huh?”

“I still got your back, ain’t said nothin’ about leavin’. All I’m sayin’ is to think about this more before we just go blunderin’ in head first.”

“It’s worked for us every time before, and it’s not like this is a brand new idea here,” Ashe shrugged, Jesse chewing on his lip. 

He tapped his fingers on the table, Ashe raising a brow.

“I got money. That’ll get us through the hard part. We just need recruits, and that’ll be up to you. You know people, you’re the silver-tongue. People trust you, and I got some folks that owe me some favours, so it’s a start.”

Silence, Jesse staring at the table, brows furrowed.

“Come on, Jess, I know we could do it! You, me, and the Deadlock Rebels.”

“It does have a nice ring to it...”

“So, you got my back here?” Ashe asked, a light in her eyes, face settled like she knew she had already won. Jesse sighed.

“I know some fellas who might be interested.”

“‘Atta boy. We’ll get the people who told us no, that we were nothin’. We’ll prove ‘em all wrong.”

Jesse huffed, as he stood, nodding to himself. That they certainly would.

-

Genji slipped back inside the compound silently, avoiding the guards easily even with how much alcohol was coursing through his system, making his vision blurry. He climbed up to the roof, scaling it, counting the number of windows he passed until he made it back to his room. Hopped through the screen he had left open, stretching with a sigh. 

It had been a rowdy night, just like every other, Genji losing himself in the crowd, in the drugs, the alcohol. Forgetting about the Shimada clan for a few hours, the things he had to do in the name of it. 

The week had been horrible. Two assassination assignments, Genji struggling to prove himself again and again. Barely being able to lift the sword, arms like lead as it swung down, sliced in a fluid, strong movement, blood spraying, hitting him—

Genji closed his eyes with a slow inhale, rubbing his hands over his face. Even borderline unconscious, he still could not erase the images completely. 

Genji stumbled to the bathroom, hovering over the sink a moment after he turned it on, watching the water run. Dipped his hands into it, letting it pool there before he gulped some down, splashing the rest on his face. When he looked up, he was met with a stranger reflected in the mirror. 

Red-rimmed eyes, unfocused, dark circles beneath them. Hair messy, sticking up in odd angles, stiff and bleach damaged. Genji sighed, looked away from the disaster he had faded back into now that he could not hide it any more behind makeup and a cocky smirk. Hobbled back to his futon after managing to get into a clean pair of pyjamas. 

He silently sent his thanks to whichever servant had made it for him and cleaned up the room as much as possible as he fell into bed with a grunt. Genji stared at the ceiling until exhaustion suddenly hit him like a train, eyes heavy and mind foggy. He hoped he would actually be able to sleep some tonight, but did not count on not having any nightmares. 

They were all he had anymore.

-

Jesse always figured he would end up in a jail cell one day, be left in it to rot for the rest of his godforsaken life. And as far as life went, he never thought he would live to be much older than twenty-five, if he was lucky. Didn’t plan on anything farther than that. 

So when he was dragged into an interrogation room at seventeen, shackles on his wrists and face bloodied from running his big mouth, he found himself unsurprised. 

Ashe had run while B.O.B covered for her, shouting Jesse’s name as he ran towards the retreating members of the gang. He had been grabbed, smacked with the butt of a gun, vision darkening for a moment. Ashe’s screams had gone silent, a strange ringing shutting out the gunfire and chaos. Next thing he knew, Jesse was forced into a chair, arms behind his back, unable to move.

They had taken everything he’d had on him, and kept him waiting. The gunslinger looked at himself in the double-sided mirror, seeing a stranger reflected there. 

Face bloodied and bruised, one of his eyes swelling, a hopeless, blank expression fixed there. He really was going to rot in jail for the rest of his life. Jesse looked away, glaring at the table instead, cursing whatever god that had given him the worst luck—hell, make that the worst life—on the planet. 

The door opened with a slight hiss, Jesse’s gaze snapping to it, to the man that walked through. A soldier of some sort, though, the armour did not look quite right. An agent of some sort, perhaps? There was a symbol on the shoulder of his jacket, one Jesse didn’t recognize. 

The man had dark eyes, brows furrowed low, arms crossed. Harsh and wary, frown deepening the longer he looked at Jesse. He sat across from the gunslinger, leaning back and lacing his fingers together on the small metal table.

“What’s your name?” He asked bluntly, Jesse sneering despite getting broken nose and bloody teeth for doing the exact same thing.

“Fuck you. I don’t gotta tell you nothin’.”

The man sighed.

“Listen, kid. We can do this the easy way,” He paused, shifting as his hand reached back. Jesse’s eyes widened slightly as it reappeared with a pistol, the man setting it down between them.

“Or you can not do it at all. I’ve got other people I can get the information I need from.”

The gunslinger swallowed, eyes flicking back up to him defiantly.

“The name’s Jesse McCree. And who are you supposed to be?”

“Gabriel Reyes, commander of the agents that busted your little pow-wow back there. You Deadlock shits have been giving me a headache with the stunts you’ve pulled recently. Got a little too bold, so I was sent in to clear you out. Wasn’t that hard, you scare easy,” Reyes shrugged. 

Jesse curled his lip.

“You’ll get yours when Ashe comes back—”

“You mean the girl we sent running for her life? She left you real quick, kid.”

“You’re lyin’!” Jesse hissed, panic starting to rise in his throat, sharp like bile.

“I’ve got no reason to lie to you, McCree. I don’t need to. You’re helpless here, and you know it. So, I suggest you answer all my questions truthfully, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Jesse set his jaw, waiting for Reyes to continue.

“If you have another base near here, a back up facility, safe house, any and all places you can think of, give me their locations.”

There was a hesitation, a long one. Jesse’s eyes flicked to the pistol again. Ashe would have his hide for this, if he managed to live through get out of this place.

“We...We got one further in the canyon. It’s an old cave we built into, just past the river...But it’s mostly just for supplies.”

“Safe-houses?”

“The old saloon basement. And another one further in town, an old warehouse off the main road to the West about ten minutes.”

“How far does the gang territory reach?”

“Stretches all along the canyon, the whole town, and a bit into the city.”

“How many associates do you have? Give me a rough estimate.”

“‘Bout thirty suppliers, and double the amount of members if you get all of ‘em,” Jesse mumbled, hearing Ashe’s voice in the back of his head, reprimanding.

No one likes a squealer.

He would be killed for this. It was either death by the man sitting in front of him, death in prison, or death by Ashe’s rifle. No good options.

“How long have you been in the gang?” Reyes continued, Jesse still feeling a slight swell of pride as he answered.

“I helped start it, so as long as it’s been around.”

“You helped start it?”

“Yeah, me ‘n Ashe pulled it together two or three years back.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” Jesse grumbled, Reyes raising a brow.

“Bullshit. I said truthful answers.”

Jesse stared at the table, fists clenching behind him.

“Answer me, now.”

“Seventeen. I’m seventeen.”

“Well. Shit.”

Jesse looked up, Reyes running a hand over his brow, rubbing it as he exhaled slowly.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you one chance here, and one chance only. You’re a dead shot from what I’ve seen, and you’ve got smarts. Information. Skill. Skill I could use. You join my crew, you join Blackwatch, or I’ll take you to the nearest jail cell and let you rot there for the rest of your life for the crimes you’ve committed.”

Jesse frowned. One good option. No real choice in it, but it was better than any of the alternatives.

“I’m pressed on time, McCree. I need your answer.”

“I’ll do it.”

Reyes gained a hint of a smile, and he nodded. He stood and took his gun back, tucking it away once more.

“Good choice.”

-

Genji never thought Hanzo would be the one to raise his sword against him. Never thought his older brother could be swayed enough by the elders to actually do it. The same brother that had stood up for him and protected him for years. Or maybe Hanzo was not the same brother anymore. 

Because Genji had been proven wrong.

-

In all eleven years of Jesse’s time at Blackwatch, he had never seen someone torn up so badly. And he’d thought he had seen it all. Fights gone wrong, missions gone south, bullets to the head and chest, explosions, war zones, corpses, and yet none compared to what had been wheeled in to the med bay that evening. 

Hardly recognizable as human. 

Jesse had only been in there to get a report for Reyes over their latest post-mission diagnostics when the doors slammed open, Dr. Ziegler shouting orders as she held on to what was left of someone. The gunslinger had only gotten a glimpse, but it was enough. 

Then, the sick smell of copper and death hit him like a bullet. Whoever was laying on the gurney no longer had the lower half of their jaw, arm mostly removed from its socket, blood spilling out from the lacerations covering their body. Strange, black vein-like scars running up what skin could be seen. 

Jesse slapped a hand over his mouth and looked away before he could process more of the guts falling out of the person’s torso, the tubes and wraps barely keeping them together, tasting bile.

And then Ziegler and her crew were gone down the hall to an operation room, their noises muted.

“Jesus Christ almighty...” Jesse murmured, sucking in a breath through his mouth. The decaying stench was still lingering in his nose. He shook his head, leaving as fast as he could. 

Jesse thought he had seen it all. That certainly proved him wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is OverwatchWorks, there are many more McGenji and other fics there! :) Thank you for reading!


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